


Disassociated

by Nightwave_Box



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, alcoholic uncle corey, based on a little story with an old friend of mine <3, but theyre super cute, for legal reasons the corey/joey tag in this is invalid, gremlin joey, hell yeah, i am hurt and this is my coping method, i mean corey and joey arent dating in this but they are super close, ummm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21845389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwave_Box/pseuds/Nightwave_Box
Summary: Joey is only 15 and his parents have kicked him out of his house, so he is destined to live with his father's old friend who is nothing but a complete stranger to him. His name is Corey Taylor, a drinking buddy of his father's. Theres a whole story to unfold that Joey can't grasp and it's the same the other way around. After catching busses from fucking Iowa to California to escape the taste of reality of growing up around shitty people……There's not much you can do except to hope that you don't have to go back.
Relationships: Corey Taylor/Joey Jordison, but not really????
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was far gone, it was around 9 o'clock at night. My body jumped with each pothole the bus had accidentally dipped into, jolting me awake each time I had drifted off into sleep. I was close to my stop now, the thought of ending this hellish cycle of insanity of getting off of a bus and hopping back onto one in a minute had filled me with relief. I was even more impatient now, rather than afraid. 

The fear really came when I had to think about the fact that I never had to ride any bus alone until now. All I had was myself to guide me. The feat was utterly horrifying to think about, even the minimal grasp of the situation seemed like blasphemy to me before now. The first several buses I had to climb on had left me shaking fearfully, not necessarily thanks to the cold air. 

The trip was from the country section of Iowa to California, all atop buses which had all seemed interiorly filthy. The windows and the walls of the bus had been coated with faded graffiti and its fair share of gum which held itself onto the walls like glue. I hesitantly sat down on the seats and held the metal bars for support when I had to.

For every bus I had to climb atop of, another pair of eyes had been prowling over my frame from seemingly head to toe. My effeminate facial features, long hair and smudged eyeliner had made me take on the appearance of a female which I was not satisfied with whatsoever.

At some point- probably on the third bus, some fuck slipped his hand between my thigh and I flinched, trying to shudder away. He took advantage of the overwhelming crowd which squeezed and pressed together like sardines in order to fit inside of the bus. My body froze up in shock and the shame hit me when others eyes had caught onto the situation when his hand crept further as his sweat drenched gut pressed against my back. He was breathing heavily into my ear.

I felt a hand grab mine and I was fished out of the situation and pulled to the back of the bus. A tall, kind boy who had spared me of that experience dragging further and I thanked him with a quiet voice. His eyes were as blue as mine with dark black hair which fell along his back. He also seemed to be a metalhead as well, wearing a Megadeth shirt. Cool. He patted the seat beside me as we made conversation. Or, tried to. I stared down at my hands and scraped the black polish off of my nails, a bad habit. He didn't seem to mind. He had to get off of the bus at one of the nearby stops, so we said our goodbyes. With that experience in mind, I was so grateful and was filled with a flicker hope. 

When he had gotten off of his stop, I felt quite lonely, but I had a feeling we would stumble upon each other again one day. I now never stood up on the bus and always sat in the back whenever the opportunity came up. I really liked him. Maybe... A little too much. I swear that my face wasn't red because he was good looking... That would be embarrassing as fuck.

The moral of the story: my dad did despise the idea of me wearing any speck of makeup and growing my hair out, but that was only because he justified his reasoning by saying that he "wanted a boy, not a little girl". I really wasn't what he expected when he discovered that my mom was pregnant. 

I proclaimed myself to be gay, but obviously without giving my parents a whiff of that factor. It was my business anyway, why did I have to prove myself to be something that I wasn't? Besides, I knew that my dad would most likely attempt to beat it out of me if he had ever found out about my sexuality. 

I tried to look on the bright side of the spectrum each time I relaxed my eyes out the window to gaze at the passing buildings and shops. Without him in my life, I could start over and be myself without his remarks and sarcastic comments harassing me on the daily basis. I don't think I ever want to go back to that house again.

I wouldn't be in this situation right now-- being eyed up on public transport, traveling across the fucking country on city buses alone, having to be mentally strong throughout this whole thing without putting myself in jeopardy- if it hadn't been for anyone but myself.

I was being tied in between the process of a divorce. I truly and wholeheartedly believed that this result was significantly because of my very presence in that household. My mother and father knew that I wasn't necessarily planned. I personally supposed that they just didn't have the willpower to raise a teenager because they'd only managed to put up with my painfully shy attitude throughout my childhood.

As soon as I'd hit age 13, they knew that I needed someone to guide me, especially then when I needed a backbone in school and mentally as well. They were not parents that were capable to carry out that task that I needed to grow into something purposeful and healthy, they didn't have what it took to sustain someone as mentally fragile as myself, really.

I wished I was different, for so long.

Maybe they'd gotten irate with how sensitive I was. Every minor thought and action would especially trigger my emotions. I wasn't stable enough for them to juggle. It was easy when I was small because if I was sad, just fucking buy me a toy. It was easy. If I cried, just give me what I wanted. Done. I would be happy. I already abandoned that state of mind when I'd entered into that dreaded Intermediate school- a place where you'd get mentally beaten down day by day without a soul knowing except for the victims because either they refused to tell, or nobody believed them.

Being physically attacked day by day, It was a common occurrence due to my physique. I was just harassed and picked on, to sum it up generally. I could go on... And on... Because they couldn't handle that sort of responsibility, they decided to give me up to someone who was willing. But in a way that wasn't obvious.

There was a plan set in place and I was forced to oblige to it.

They'd send me to Cali to visit my alcoholic "uncle" named Corey motherfucking Taylor to go trick or treating on Halloween because I don't have any sort of person to do that with. He's practically a stranger. This would make it the first time that I've seen him since I was really small where I couldn't even force my mind to remember his face. He's my dad's friend, not my uncle, genetically.

They would go drinking together every night before he had to move to Cali because he lost his home in Iowa. My parents only told me that they were close back then but they've only lost touch over time. Work buddies. I knew that they were drawn together by alcoholism. I heard that once, Corey had started and ended a fight in one of the bars they'd had gone to. The guy he fought with, his teeth had been jammed into Corey's fists and he had to get the teeth surgically removed. This led me to feel fear over this man I was about to spend my life with- all who I barely even knew about.

My dad didn't really care all too much about my wellbeing. He was the one that had really made me feel isolated every single day. The constant battle I'd face with his degrading comments were unsettling and often shattering, but he'd never hit me before. So that was alright. Well, except for once which is a time I'd never forget but also never mention to another soul and once that I'd often try to forget- when we had a heated argument, I had uttered the wrong words, causing him to pummel the living daylights out of me on the kitchen floor with glass shards sprinkled underneath me. He flew one of the chairs across the room before stomping towards me, the chair inevitably crashing into a cabinet which held the glass dishes. I was left with blooms of purple bruises and cuts which hadn't gone away for days. 

We barely spoke after that incident.

As for my mom- Mom wasn't home most of the time due to work purposes and I just got in the way, so I stood out of it as often as I could. I wished she'd come back home and look me in the eyes to see that they were moist, glazed and clearly puffy due to the rubbing. She never looked me in the eyes because maybe she would sense a taste of that sleeping fire inside of me, hidden deep within the exhaustion and sadness which was quite foggy. I wouldn't blame her. If we made eye contact, I bet I would absorb a second hand sense of guilt and regret.

After maybe a week that this plan commenced- they would break the news to him about how they needed me gone quickly because they were apparently losing their house and the money they had wouldn't be able to provide for me as I grew older. Which was shat out of their mouths because they blatantly told me that it was a lie to have me gone. They'd kicked me out of the house shortly after the fight broke out with my dad because they proclaimed that I was 'uncontrollable', a 'disgrace' and a 'fucking ungrateful shit' afterwards. I had to have somewhere to stay and they believed that this was my best option. I surely didn't want to live with my fucking aunty who was a druggie.

It explained the baggage on my shoulder.

California... It was far different from where I was raised. Tall buildings traced the skies, meanwhile my side of Iowa had little shacks and old, raggedy houses. The distant parents who weren't really present as I grew older left me with myself and only myself. I wanted a cat, which I had assumed would be easy to have in Cali because there were strays in every street corner you'd peer into, I guessed. Sadly, there were no animals allowed at home because they were said to only make a mess and be quite pricey. Although these troubles had occurred, I wouldn't say that I'd lived out my childhood as a depressed kid. I know that I managed to find the best out of every situation. I'm still jumpy and jittery when I allow myself to be.

I tried to see this journey as a new start and a fresh beginning. An opportunity in itself.

By the time that the final bus had stuttered to a halt as its breaks let out a shrilled squeak, I was exhausted. Having to deal with the bickering and noises of the contents of people within it had prevented me from falling asleep. How many buses did I hop on... I had no clue. 

Sitting up, I gripped the handlebars for support as the bus jerked forward. I slung my backpack around my shoulder and for thankfully the last time, I stepped carefully off of the bus and down the stairs. 

My eyes were pinned to my feet throughout the short lived walk off of the final bus. The warmth of the vehicle had ceased as soon as the door in the front had automatically opened before me, allowing a gust of cold air to stab my face like needles. It was Fall and especially cold out. I shivered.

When my feet had touched the sidewalk, the door behind me had closed and the bus slowly hauled its heavy body back onto the road, departing swiftly back into the current of vehicles.

I exhaled deeply, brushing strands of hair out of my face. My eyes wanted to close out of the mere exhaustion that had plagued me because sleeping on buses was a miserable experience. 

I scrambled in the pocket of my pants for the written address of the apartment complex Corey had been living in, which was thankfully on a torn piece of folder paper. It also had the room number jotted down so I wouldn't accidentally knock on the wrong door.

I found that the only contents within both my left, right and even back pockets were of fragments of lint, an old lighter and a nickel. Panicking, I turned my pockets inside out and gazed off to the direction where the bus had gone. It was visible in the distance. Not like I'd run after it just to look on the floor for a little disposable paper...

I wanted to pull my hair out, I was so angry at myself but petrified, most of all. "Fuck... Fuck!" Tears brimmed my eyes and peeked from my tear spouts as I watched the cars go by in a state of utter hopelessness. My arms fell loosely at my sides in despair.

"Joey." I heard a man's voice call me from around the bus stop. Weird note, but I liked the sound of his voice and it'd be soothing if it were said in a less forceful tone. A string of hope had sent me spinning.

I jumped at the sudden voice and turned towards the direction it came from. The man was walking towards me from the sign designating the bus stop. He was dressed in a black hoodie which seemed to fit him perfectly and faded baggy pants which hung from his body. It had a large hole over one of the knees. Both of his hands were pressed into the front pockets of the hoodie to keep warm, although he looked suspicious enough to appear as if he would whip out a glock at any second.

He spoke again as soon as we were face to face, "Huh. So you're the kid." I nodded, not sure of how to address him just yet. My hands were shaking and I didn't know if it was due to the cold or because I was devastatingly nervous.

He peered down at me, seeming to mentally judge every attribute my appearance had given him to internally criticize and judge. Or at least, I thought he was. I had on an oversized and aged Slayer shirt a friend had given me, black jeans and worn shoes which had obviously seen better days at some point. Bracelets were also layered onto my wrists. He'd probably think I was an emo or some shit.

He looked quite menacing but I knew he meant no harm. He had piercing blue eyes that could easily simmer away any weak glance that had happened to land upon his, completed with eyebrows that were typically annoyed and pulled together. I tried not to simmer.

"Well, I've been standing here for fucking ages, can we go now?" he grumbled and removed his hand from the pocket to scratch the light bristly beard on his jaw.

I looked at him, quite dumbfounded. I felt drained enough to want to collapse right on the freezing concrete to finally catch some proper sleep, but I couldn't help but ask questions. "Go where? And how do I know that you're who I think you are?" I interrogated with a squint to my eyes, staring through his. My hand's grip on one of the straps of my backpack tightened. I had to make sure.

He appeared dumbfounded now too. One of his eyebrows raised in confusion with a need to protest while still being too annoyed and done to argue. "Oh, so the idea of me knowing your name and what you look like just isn't enough." A sigh forcefully exited his mouth, a loom of white fog coming from it, probably because it was so dark outside.

"Just making sure..." I murmured, squeezing my hands together for warmth. He sighed again yet more dramatically than before. 

"Come on, Goth Cinderella, I'm not gonna fucking kidnap you." A rough slap on my back came which sent me a step forward to regain balance. A spark of annoyance chimed within me, but I held it still so that I wouldn't say anything I'd regret. At least he didn't call me an emo. "Gimme your bag."

I did as I was told, sliding it off of my shoulder. He held his hand out so I motioned it towards him. It was quite heavy and his hand didn't drop the slightest as soon as he grabbed it. Cool. He slung it over his shoulder and held one of the straps, walking ahead of me.

"Thanks..." I seen his head nod in response. I caught up with him until we were walking beside each other. I made an attempt to detach my eyes from my feet by glancing up at the scenery before us. Cars whizzed by on the left while houses and buildings adorned the right side of the sidewalk. They were all closely beside each other, only fragile looking fences separating their yards. I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable those people must have felt, not being able to say what they want without their neighbor's ears perking up at every cough and sneeze.

They all looked the same. The windows, doors, everything.

Corey seemed to walk slower than I did as he was older than me and less agile, or maybe in less of a hurry to reach an embrace of warmth because he wasn't the one freezing his ass off. My pace was forced to decrease from my normal quick steps to a minimal means of moving forward. I intentionally allowed my feet to drag and my defenses to drop, sucking up the cold winds to spit them back out.

I slowed beside him until we were walking with elbows almost touching. 

Corey didn't seem like much of a talkative person, despite the small offensive remarks he has made during the first few minutes of me seeing him for the first time. I think I liked his eyes as much as I was fond of his voice when I'd heard him call my name. The mere tone of it, I guess. His eyes were striking in the dark, seemingly collecting any trace of reflecting light to hold it captive under water. 

They were dim, though.

The light was taken and highly desaturated to a point where it suited his inner wellness. Not very bright. 

I could tell that he wore a face of pain beyond my imagination which was bound in his eyes. Maybe it was just me feeling like too much of a theorist about this stuff. After all, this was a complete stranger and I was already sort of intrigued to know his story.

However... I was still uneasy around this new guy.

Corey just seemed like kind of a dick despite my best efforts to make the best out of our short lived introduction. My standards were probably set far too high because I kind of expected him to smile maybe once or twice.

The dark and curly hair that he had fell over his shoulders. It looked fluffy, probably due to the fact that it was dry and unwashed, unkept as his sense of clothing. He also had a thin nose with a brush of red due to the cold and a faint nose piercing scar which was still visible. His lips were equally as thin and pressed together firmly.

His eyebrows were furrowed together as well, seeming to be in a permanent state of annoyance and aggravation currently. Did I feel bad for making him wait out in the cold for me? Probably not, because he seemed warm. So I wasn't planning on apologizing. 

He seemed to be a heavily guarded man, which was usually the common explanation for the depictions of the typical asshole. He had inner barriers which I didn't think I would ever break through to properly get to know him. Doubt it. 

"What're you starin' at?" he uttered, sparing me glance from the corner of his eye. I immediately stared down at my feet or at anything else which had allowed me the privilege to glance at anything that wasn't back to his deep eyes. He was scary, but I supposed I'd get used to him in a few days... Weeks... Months?

After a short minute, I peeked back up at him quickly. He glowered down at me in the snap of a second, so mine flicked away once more. "Literally, what?!" he raised his voice with a sigh to follow, probably distressed at the annoying amount of attention he was receiving, or maybe he was just self conscious. I thought to myself, 'Stubble...' and continued to stare away. Corey sighed again.

The awkward fog of discomfort had surrounded the two of us as we walked, just like the small white clouds we'd exhale from our nostrils. I shivered. My pace quickened uncomfortably, so Corey walked a step or two quicker so that he could keep up. It was fucking cold as shit.

"Hey, can you walk slower for fucks sake?" he growled in a low voice as he trailed behind me, trying to keep up as I approached a speed walking pace. "Kid, stop."

I hissed in response, the freezing cold merging with the way Corey had been treating me so far had stung me badly enough. "I'm fucking freezing, okay?" I proceeded forward without him.

"Can you just wait for a sec, fuck!" 

I paused and turned towards him with an eminent resting bitch face. "What?"

The backpack was placed by his feet. He already began to take his hoodie off and his tank top slid upwards in the process as it clung to the inside of the hoodie, revealing tattoos on his stomach and a hint of chubbiness on his gut. The sleeves were peeled off of his skin which had revealed even more tattoos across his forearms. He really was a tat enthusiast. 

"You should've just said something, you know. I would've just given you this as soon as you hopped off the bus," he murmured under his breath as he threw the hoodie to my direction. It covered my face, but I'd caught it in time so that it wouldn't drop on the ground. At least it smelled good, unexpectedly. I was quite speechless, not expecting this reaction, I had braced for something far more ridiculing for no reason.

But I couldn't help but slide a comment in. "You make it kinda hard to do that..."

He fired back with a, "What do you mean by that?" as he picked my backpack up yet again, but before I could answer his threat, I'd slipped the hoodie on easily and swiftly reached my arms through the holes and walked ahead of him. It draped over my thin frame and went a little past my hips, practically a slutty skirt length. What a way to put it. "Hey-" Another sigh interrupted him. 

"Comfy, really comfy," I sung in a more cheerful manner now that I was able to gain some sort of warmth. I turned back towards him with a slight smile that couldn't resist but appear on my lips. I raised my arms out childishly as the sleeves covered my small hands and bracelets included. "I think I might just keep this."

"Go ahead," He simply stated. 

But then I began to feel sympathy for him. His hands were immediately jammed into the pockets of his pants. 

"Well..." I began, "Are you okay with this? I hope you won't be too cold."

"Nah, it's fine. Just keep it."

Simplistic answers were never any good. I was afraid that I'd gotten him angry with me, so I humbly stopped acting out to follow beside him and not ahead. 

After several brief moments of a now comfortable feeling in the air which did not seem so clogged and overwhelming as we walked, he decided to speak up. "How did you even get here, anyway? Surely someone must have dropped you off nearby. Because there's no way in hell that I'd believe you if you said that you caught a fuck ton of buses to California."

I left him baffled, then. "Bus. Just the bus. Getting on one after another."

"From fucking Iowa?"

"Mhm."

"Country Iowa."

"Yeah."

"Jesus Christ..."

There was a quick pause. "And your parents let you pull that shit alone?" He seemed mildly irked at the mere thoughts alone. But I nodded silently in affirmation. "Why?" I shrugged.

"Fuck, after this month fucking passes, I'm not gonna let you do that shit alone again. Honestly..." He drifted off into thought and stopped speaking, instead insisted on staring straight ahead. 

"It's fine, I got here alright so surely I can get back in one piece."

"That still doesn't mean it's okay."

I fell into silence now. My head drooped down to stare at my feet as I walked. That was true... I guess my parents had jammed the idea of the expedition being a normal everyday thing into my head before I'd gone. Corey was right. Anything could have happened to me- such as... The situation on the bus, but far worse by many levels that I didn't want my mind to ponder deeply about. 

I did what Corey had been doing when he had this hoodie on and stuffed my hands into the pocket. It was very warm. Now I understood why he did it, he looked suspicious at first but it really did warm me up.

He seemed to notice this action as I'd felt his eyes on me. He was probably connecting the dots at this point... "And they didn't even give you a fucking jacket to stay warm."

I shook my head.

He groaned and his arms tensed. He was probably clenching his fists within the pockets of his jeans. I knew I shouldn't have said shit...

"It wasn't cold, I was alright."

"You were about to sprint towards the apartments in order to find some sort of warmth."

I sighed, defeated. Again, he wasn't necessarily wrong. I kicked a rock or two which had laid in my way as if they had been asking to be punted. I kicked one and it stumbled directly into the darkness ahead which wasn't shrouded by the dim orange glow from the street lights.

A while of time passed draped in silence until Corey had snapped me out of this sense of invisibility once he spoke up. "The complex is ahead, we're almost there." 

"Alright..." I murmured as I took one last glance back up at him.

He looked down at me but didn't scowl or cuss. He acknowledged me by looking into my eyes and then away again. 

I think we're going places now. At least it was different from where we'd began. 

He gave me a light pat on the back and I almost yelped in an unexpected shock, but I smiled instead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've not updated ANYTHING in like, a whole year, which is my guess. I'm slowly beginning to get back into writing! I've been stalling on this since I put out the first chapter and I never got around to getting past 1k words. I reached barely 3k this time around which isn't a goal for me, but it's something!! I hope you all enjoy this small update. Usually each chapter is up to 4k-5k words, but I might be shortening it for the sake of my own sanity. My writing has rusted greatly overtime, so hopefully, I'll try to jump back into the swing of things and get my mind working right soon. My IG is @supertracpac if you'd like to check out what I've been doing other then writing, and I'll see you in the next chapter update <3 Changes may be updated soon, who knows...

When we finally got to the second floor and Corey opened the door to allow me to enter, I don't know what I expected.

The apartment was horrendously filthy. Empty bottles of all types of alcohol had been littered amongst the piled trash which appeared to have collectively sat stationary over a lengthy span of time. My nose crinkled at the scent of spilled alcohol and sweat as if the room hadn't been aired out in quite some time- or even at all.

"The air-con is broken so this place becomes an oven during the day," he commented and sifted through the heaps of junk on the floor in a corner of the room. It was humid inside, but the warmth of the apartment had straddled me to rid my shivering body of the previous cold outside. 

I was uncertain of what to do now, so I stood against the closed door to let the mess sink in. 

Burger King wrappers were scattered on the floor. He didn't seem to be very picky about what types of fast food he ingested because many food joint's wrapping remains called this apartment home. He must have cashed in a fuck load of money for these companies. Pizza Hut, especially... Pizza boxes were stacked in the corner of the apartment, along with dusty moving boxes beneath them. The boxes were still closed with tape, a mystery within.

Clutter had engulfed the whole room for who knows how long.

His eyes met mine, the lack of motion coming from my direction seemed to piss him off. "Are you just goin to stand there and gawk? Quit fucking staring and sit down," he grumbled.

I didn't know how to address this man because his responses only seemed to increase in aggravation, so I took a hesitant step forward with a small "Fine." I walked on my toes and almost had to dance around Corey's mess, I had no idea how he maneuvered around all of this, seeing as he wasn't very agile or prone to being anywhere near able to allowing his reflexes to save his fall if he tripped. 

I dodged a few cans and clothes which were jumbled on the floor. 

The couch would be the most casual location to peer around without making it too obvious. It was an old leather red couch that has once seen better days. A clean sheet was thrown over it to most likely cover the messes and stains underneath it and I was grateful for that. A tear or two had etched itself in the armrests and clothes were casually tossed over the top. I took a seat and Corey began to speak.

"There are rules to stay here, you won't be staying in this place in a second if you break one of them." He began as he continued to sift through this unfortunate mess which he somehow found homely. "I'll send you right back to where you came from." He finally pulled out the television remote which was connected to a small TV which was seated atop a shelf. He placed it on the side table beside the couch's armrest. 

I agreed with a simple, "Hit me." The thought of being kicked out in a snap for disobeying a rule I didn't know of had sent me to uneasily shift on the couch. I'd be in a foreign place with streets surrounding me that I didn't even know the name of, all because of a fucking house rule. But I was obedient and now, as obedient as ever. I was afraid to hear what I'd have to face, but it was best to accept it with open arms and come to terms with what I'd be dealing with. 

"Rule number one," he started and stood before me to raise a finger, "Don't leave this apartment unless you tell me first. I'm responsible for you and I don't want a criminal record on my head for 'neglecting' some kid who got himself lost on the street." What a wonderful start, I'm losing my rights as an American citizen.

"What if it's an emergency?"

"I'll make sure there won't be one."

He seemed confident so I let it slide because he probably didn't actually want to keep me locked in this dumpster for days on end. That would drive me insane almost immediately by the second day. Surrounded by all this...

"Rule number two. Don't go in my room." ...All this clutter... Even old books were splayed among the junk, splitting in half and pressed into the floor to the point it looked like it was apart of the flooring itself. The book covers were too faded to make out. The bookshelf beside an opened drawer against the wall was messily congested with books as well. 

He continued, "Rule number three." Three fingers were raised before me. "Do not order food without my permission. My budget isn't very high- especially now that I have to save my cash to keep your skinny ass from begging for scraps on the street for the last half of this month- it won't be easy." Even foam Chinese take-out containers were rotting here. Garbage bags adorned the surface of the walls, of course, buried under the other piles of junk which Corey seemed to store for safekeeping. 

"Rule four, don't even fucking think of touching my stuff." Did he mean all of this garbage which decomposed compactly in this living room alone? My room wasn't tidy but I really felt uncomfortable enough to bleach this entire space down. He was always forced to clean the entire house he lived in before, so this just triggered him to want to tidy up.

I couldn't help but ask. "Does that include the rubbish everywhere?" My head tilted slightly to the side. "You have to clean up, you know..."

"It's not rubbish!" his voice raised and I admit that I jumped at the sudden increase in volume. "It's my shit and that's that, so don't touch what's mine. How would you like it if I went through the bag you have over there?" He pointed at my backpack which sat beside me yet still held his gaze upon my own. 

"I mean," I looked at the floor, "There's nothing of value in there so, go ahead." 

"What're you tryna say? My things have fucking value!" 

A growl escaped from his lips before he changed the subject in a snap, not wanting to converse about the topic any longer. I began to swiftly remove Corey's hoodie from my body to set it beside me. I wanted to thank him again, but I let him finish first.

"Brat," he murmured. I heard it. "Fifth rule is that you can't bring any girl to this place no matter what. I don't want to see your hormonal ass wrestling naked with some chick on my bed." What the-

"Corey, what the f-" I was speechless, almost. Has anyone ever been this blunt to me, I have no fucking clue. I didn't even have the talk yet. "You don't have to worry about that kind of shit!"

"I sure as hell do, I'm saying what I want in my own place so you know ahead of time!" He crossed his arms like a dad lecturing his child. Lord.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that." I am into guys, after all. The only girl that will ever come to this raggedy place is someone who's actually interested in smelling sweat and old liquor and she's sure as hell not being invited by me.

"Fine." He shook his head and gestured his thumb to point behind him on the TV. "Don't run up my bills either."

"I won't."

"And don't bother me when my door's locked." I'm... "And the beers in the fridge are mine," he pointed towards the refrigerator. I turned to where he was pointing and could see the punched indents on the surface of it from here when the light of the lamp fell on it.

"I don't drink..."

"Whatever, kid." His hands were now firmly pushed into his pockets. Suddenly he leaned forward to nearly my level where I could see all the little details in his face close up. The light from the lamps behind me reflected onto his nearly gray eyes which looked almost empty, in a shallow way. "And don't be a little whiney brat."

My eyes squinted at him. He was just asking for a fight. "As long as you don't be a mean little alcoholic." 

"Alcoholic-" He appeared to be shocked and stepped back, aghast. Was this the first time that someone laid some facts down to him? He clearly couldn't handle the truth.

"Don't forget about the 'little' part."

"Kid, you're fucking five feet tall! I can't even see you unless I'm this close!" he leaned forward and got in my face again. The stench of alcohol was eminent in his breath. "You're a midget!"

My brows furrowed. This fucker! "5'2, asshole!" 

"You're only going to grow about an inch taller and that's your peak, you look like you just came out of the fucking womb!"

I pushed him back by his shoulders with blood quickly rising to my face and especially my cheeks. He began to laugh... "Sh-shut up!"

"I'm gonna store everything on the highest fucking shelves so you struggle on a chair!" He held his chest, chuckling. I didn't think I'd ever hear him laugh, but the reason why he's getting such a kick out of this... "Midget! Shorty!"

"...A growth spurt is soon..."

"Sure!" 

His laugh was contagious, sadly, so I began to giggle. His laughs turned to evil cackles. My anger subsided soon after, but I was still fucking pissed for being called a midget. The teasing would never end no matter what side of the country I was in, I guess.

I slipped out of the hoodie he gave to me and threw it at his face, covering his dumb smile. 

"Little shit!" He removed the piece of clothing from over his face. "It gets cold at night, you don't want me to take this back now, do you?"

I shook my head, my mind still on the subject of the harassment concerning my height. 

"Then you better keep it with you." He threw it back at me. I groaned and tossed it aside atop the armrest of the couch.

My eyes rolled before landing on the digital clock inside of one of the compartments of the television stand. It was twelve in the morning. I had initially thought that it was a lot later, as I was terribly exhausted and unaware of the time for quite a while since I didn't have any means of telling the time- apart from looking up at the sky through the dirty window of a bus, that is.

From the corner of my eye, Corey scowled at me briefly before turning away to turn on the television. It was extremely outdated but still performed what it was expected to do. He dropped himself beside me now, the sudden pressure of his heavy structure on the couch causing my light body to jump a bit at the impact. 

An hour went by swiftly, it set me back the slightest when I peeked back at the clock.

The channels were all as boring as ever. Reality TV shows, infomercials, suspense, cheap sci-fi action flics, nothing of peak interest. I leaned my back against the cushions of the couch with my eyes half-lidded. Falling asleep in front of the television like this while watching something not because it was interesting but just because it was playing was very nostalgic, referring back to when I was a young boy. It looked to be the same type of model too. 

Corey's voice penetrated through the fuzzy background voices sounding from the TV. "What shows do you like?" He still flicked through the stations as he spoke, eyes lazily attached to the screen.

My heavy eyes widened a bit. "...Who, me?"

"Who else am I talking to, dumbass?"

Did he have to be so aggressive... If I had the spirits and energy, I'd tell him that he had a hard brick for a head. "Oh..." I glanced at him before returning my eyes to the screen in front of me.

It was painfully awkward trying to converse with this man, whether I began the conversations or not. "Well... I do like horror films." 

"At least you have good taste," he replied, with his same judgemental tone of voice, making it sound less like a compliment and more like a complaint. I'd get used to it in time.

He made an attempt to find something of the genre I mentioned, but nothing was worthwhile. "It's all just junk. Fake horror stories and cheap jumpscares, it's disgraceful."

Finally, something we could both agree on. He fiddled with the remote for a short while longer before giving up, pausing on Adult Swim which provided him the slightest bit of entertainment.

My stomach ached again for seemingly the hundredth time today, growling audibly and pressuring me to get a spec of food in my system before it began to threaten to eat itself. I didn't want to ask him for food because I surely didn't want to sound like I had to rely on him for a second, so I kept my mouth shut. It was worth being hungry for a bit longer. 

But I remembered that third rule that he had explained to me... Surely I could get back at him for being such a dickhead lately.

"Corey..." I touched his arm with my hand, looking up at him with my eyes big and blue.

He cringed and raised a brow, alarmed by my sudden clingy behavior. "What?"

"I'm starving..." I tugged on his tanktop gently, "...Need nutrients..."

Corey grimaced and scooted away an inch or two. "What do you want me to do about it? And keep your grimy little paws off me." His arm jerked away from my light grasp.

I tilted my head to the side innocently. "Can we... Get some pizza?"

A growl exited his lips. "In the middle of the night? You've got to be fuckin' kidding me."

"Unless you have something in the fridge... I don't know my way around this place so you'll have to go..."

The man was silent. But he forced himself to hesitantly stand from his comfy position on the couch, tossing the TV remote onto my lap. "Fine..." 

He grumbled his way towards the kitchen area.

"I already have pizza here! You just gotta put it in the oven!" He yelled from across the apartment. I really don't want to eat frozen pizza that sat in his fridge for a decade or two...

"Can't we get a fresh one?" 

"Why the fuck are you so picky, this isn't a fucking restaurant!"

"Can I just have a drink then?" 

"What kind..."

"What do you have?"

"Uh..." The noise of clinking cans sliding through the fridge caught my ears. It was likely all beer. Just a hunch, though. "Dr. Pepper?"

"I want a root beer."

"Did you say Diet Coke?!" He murmured, but I could still hear: "Nasty little fuck..." He stomped his way back to the couch with a Sprire, aggressively motioning it to my direction, so I grabbed it from his hands.

"Corey..."

He was silent.

"Can we get a Pepsi..."

Silence from beside me. "And breadsticks.... and garlic sauce..."

"Is that it?" he perked up.

"And..." 

He waited, aggravated. 

"A desert too..."

Corey dug through his pockets for his phone.

"Is that all..." He held the phone in his hands now, ready to dial the number of the pizza place he visits often.

"And a side salad..." 

I watched as Corey gripped his phone tightly. Just at a mention something healthy, huh.

I peered down at the floor. "It's fine if you don't want to get it... We can heat the other one up-"

"I'll get your fuckin' food, don't freak. Christ." Did he realize that the guy at the other end of the line had already picked up his call? "-Shit." There it is.

He glared at me with piercing eyes before speaking into the phone. "Gimme some fucking breadsticks- garlic sauce- Pepsi- uhhh, side salad?"

"And a desert."

"Fuck..."

"And tell them to stuff the crust with cheese."

"Wait, what--"

I tried to hide my smirk behind my hand. "And can you tell them to make it hand-tossed, it's better that way-"

"You little SHIT, I'm going to fucking hang up."

I liked pushing his buttons like this. It seems like he really is a softie...

"Gimme a hand-tossed, stuffed crust pepperoni pizza... Anything ELSE?!"

"Tell them to send their cutest delivery boy..."

Silence once more, as his eyes glared daggers into my soul. It was exciting, testing the beast.

"...Can we do a pick-up?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, if you enjoyed this, please leave feedback! If I know there's some people out there who liked this fic, I'll: write more of this pairing/continue it/maybe extend the story/try to publish frequently, etc. etc. !! <3 <3  
> Drop kudos if you'd like to see more! <3


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